Tack Carmen
Tack Carmen (Micah Alenius) -born in Stockholm, Sweden on September 3rd, 1995- was a bully in his early middle school years. He belongs to a foster home owned by the Carmens ever since an accident that happened when he was younger. Two things are wrong with the young demon, which will be listed in his past. A talent that he was well known for in Middle School was his harmonica playing. Tack has a wide range of hobbies and unique powers. He was abused and ignored by his parents when he was younger. Many things happened during that time, that it's hard to explain them all. To this day, Tack acts sarcastic, but is actually sweet when he wants to be. He's also abusive towards his foster brother and enjoys to yell at him. Tack also has a Swedish accent, and never likes to be called by his real name. His mother came up with it, and he wants nothing to do with her or the bastard of a boyfriend. 'Early Life' "One Child's courage to survive," - Dave Pelzer Abortion was considered on behalf of the unborn child. When this news became public for everyone to hear, people in Sweden made it their job to never see this happen. Loads upon loads of money came in, basically buying the young couple to reconsider their option. People who wanted a child met with the young couple. They explained how nice it would be to give the infant a home, a family, and love. The meetings didn't impress them. Money clouded their perception on the birth. The majority in Sweden felt it in their hearts the couple would take the money and the girl would give birth. Once the money total to 3.27 million, they announced an abortion would not take place. Though, that was not entirely true. The young teen met a doctor, sure that no one would follow. They did the business of killing the living child inside of her. As nine months passed, she went into labor. Of course the girl was surprised. She paid that doctor .27 of the million to kill the thing inside of her. After long hours of pain, the baby was finally out. Except...the teen wasn't allowed to see him. The infant was not healthy. His leg was twisted oddly, which they managed to turn to normal, but the doctors soon figured out he would suffer from two things: Cataracts and Miniere's Disease. This was astonishing news. Both the parents were healthy and in good shape. Later on they figured the problem out, but did not release anything to the press. On the other hand, if the doctors had, the boy would have gone to a better home than the one that waited for him once he was out of the comfy hospital. His mother cared for Micah when he was an infant. She really did love him, but her boyfriend acted differently. Many times he would flick the child on the head, and every time he laughed, he would send a hand across the baby's back. The girlfriend tried to stop him, but that would result in her getting hurt. She was always one to care for herself, rather than someone else. If she was getting hurt by saving Micah, then she would no longer protect the child. If her boyfriend ordered her to only feed the child once per day, she would listen. The girlfriend was basically wrapped around his finger in fear she would get hurt. As the years went by, she gave birth to another child and everything turned upside down. The treatment towards Micah became worse once his little sister entered the family. They named her Madison and treated her like she was some sort of precious art. Even though their family was loaded, his 'parents' didn't treat Micah with the money. He had a nice room that he never slept in. That was just for show. They had to keep up with the dinner parties and create the illusion they were a normal, happy family. Both of them were a lot smarter than Micah thought. Every day during the winter, as he laid on the cold, cement floor in the basement, he wished for the rescue that never came. After six more years (making him thirteen), the wishes stopped. He just waited for the day he could possibly die and leave the world of pain. Micah was hit where the bruises would not be visible. His thighs, stomach, back, upper arms, chest, and shoulders would always hurt. He winced with the pain that came with every movement he tried to take. No one at school knew what was happened. Micah was the rich kid everyone wanted to be friends with, hoping for cool new gadgets. All they would get is yelling from him, and sometimes a punch to the face. He was a very angry child and had no time at all for 'friends'. He then met a small, scrawny kid who was always silent. The dude never spoke a word. He would just stare out the window he sat by in class. It turned out Micah had all his classes with the kid who never bothered him. He took this as a sign of fear and bullied the kid. Took lunch money, knocked books down from his hands, shoved him against lockers, tripped the golden-eyed boy in the hallways, and spread rumors about him. The boy, Sterling, never fought back. He just hung his head and took the pain. When he was missing, Micah tormented other kids-never feeling remorse. Hits that didn't belong to Micah and landed on Sterling were strictly against the rules. Sterling was his victim, and no one could lay a hand on him. : More of the pain and starvation came in Micah's life. The only time he slept in the basement was during the winter. Any other time, it was mandatory for the boy to sleep outback on the porch with a thin blanket. Micah soon learned sleep would no longer come. He was finally free outside and there was so much to see. Whenever the child was hungry, the demon would break into a store and take whatever looked good. No one knew about it, and no lashings came of it. His life was simply good during the night. Micah always hated when winter came. He was forced to sleep in the basement with only newspaper as a bed. If he had to take a whizz, there was bucket for him down there. During the morning, Micah was forced to do the chores. If he was caught stealing any food off of the plates, his shoulder would be come dislocated. When Micah turned fourteen, the pain finally stopped and he was sent to a foster home. : : First Person Perspective; : '' ''My Angel: : ''It was a perfect plan. Nicely organized for everything to work out. I was so proud of myself. I actually came up with something that would work. It had to work. If it didn't, then I would be the one to end up dead .... or shot. No, these thoughts weren't supposed to be entering my mind. I didn't want them to. I was sure the plan would work. I had everything I needed, and that was just one thing. My 'father', son of a bitch, was upstairs calling my name. It was time for the evening chores. I usually didn't wait for that time in excitement, but tonight was special. Tonight was the day I was going to get anything I ever wanted. The money to help me through my school life and '''the freedom. That last thing mattered the most. I had freedom during the night, but I wouldn't be able to survive without the money. Many folks from my family's work would recongize me and turn me in back to hell. I tucked the pistol in the waistband of my torn up jeans. I didn't want my 'parents' to wait that long. They would come down and deliever one to my face if they waited to long. I ran up wooden steps, wincing with the pain, and knocked on the door. They kept it locked just in case I tried to eat something when they were asleep. The door open, and I shielded my eyes from the light driving into my skull. My 'father' jerked me into the hallway and pushed my hard against the wall. "That was too long, don't you think?" He asked me, teeth grinding. I could smell his breath. He really needed to learn how to use a breath mint. "With all the strikes I get everyday, I thought it was perfect timing," I replied with a smirk, shrugging my shoulders. I told myself not to wince. If he sense the pain, that would mean victory. Something I didn't want the man to have. "I think you need that attitude beaten out of you," he sneered, his fist making contact with the side of my nose. I crippled to the floor with the force that came with the punch. Pulling my hand to my nose, I felt the blood pour down onto it. It was hard keeping the tears in. No matter what gender you were, it hurt like a mother fucker getting punched by a grown man. "You think?" I asked, staring up at him, keeping my hand clasped over my nose, "that's a shocker." I wasn't going overboard, I needed him to hit me, kick me, or even slam me more against the wall. I just needed enough. "What did you say?" He questioned me with a growl, his shoe racing towards me. It was a stupid idea, but at the same time brilliant. I knew he was planning on kicking me in the stomach, but I changed my position. I could actually hear the bones cracking in my nose as the shoe made contact. Letting my hands fall from my face, I stared up at the man with pain in my expression. "What do you think you're playing at?" He shouted at me, planning to drive another kick, only this time to my side. Now, that was bad. I couldn't let him do that. It was time. I stood up and pushed him against the wall. Of course I was strong, I spent my time bullying the kids at school. I grabbed the pistol from my waistband and held it to his neck. "Now, I'm only going to say this once. I hate repeating myself. And hearing 'Micah! Micah! Get your ass up here and do the fucking chores!' Is getting a little old, don't you think?" I sneered, asking him the same thing he had done to me, before kneeing him in his crotch. My 'dad' was dazed at first, wondering how this had turned on him. But, then he did something I didn't expect. "How are you going to shoot me with the safety on?" Dumfounded, I turned my head to look at the pistol, then swore under my breath. The safety wasn't on. He had tricked me. Tricked me long enough to place his hands on my chest, and push me back, trying to knock the gun from my hand. We fumbled with the weapon, somehow I managed to keep it from him. My plan wasn't really going so well right now. But, as long as I kept my finger around the trigger, he had to be careful. Finally! I managed to put a hand back on him, then pushed him against the wall once more. "I didn't really want to do this. I just wanted money and the free right to the car and just to drive away. Remember, dad," I said the word with disgust, cringing at how wrong it sounded, "you brought this on yourself." My finger tightened on the trigger, and I pushed down. I didn't notice how limp he had gotten, nor the smirk that was on his face. His hand turned the gun around on me, above the artery in my shoulder. It blew through, but he didn't expect what would happen after that. I was facing the opening of the hall. We hadn't noticed my little sister standing on a chair and trying to get our attention. Once the bullet left my shoulder (cutting cleanly through) it dived into Madison's chest. The color drained from her face (probably record time) and she crippled to the floor, the chair falling with her. I watched as the blood poured out on to the floor. A deep, dark red. Who knew a ten year old girl could bleed so much? I dfidn't hate Madison, we just never had time to get along. And, now .... watching her die in front of me, I could feel the sting in my chest. She was my little sister. Maddi wasn't suppose to get hurt. Way to go, Dad, I thought to myself, you killed your favorite. "How could you kill my princess?!" He screamed at me, turning the gun towards my chest. I waited for him to pull the trigger. After all, I was waiting for this day to come. The shot never came. I watched the man fall to his knees. What had happened? I looked around and saw the police standing by Madison. I could see her chest rising slowly, and the bruises on her legs. Wait...? That couldn't be possible. I walked over to her and raised her shirt up to the mid section of her stomach. I stared in shock. Greenish bruises were there. During the night, I would curse the child for having a better life than me, and all of this time, she was also receiving some of the pain. My eyes moved over to her hand. The pink cell phone was in her grasp with the numbers: 112. Maddi had called the police, that was what she was trying to tell us. She tried to stop the torment. She wanted her daddy to go to jail. I craddled Madison in my arms, the tears falling from my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Maddi," I cried, looking down at her. She smiled weakly, shaking her head as best she could. Her face was still pale, and the paramedics were trying to coax her out of my arms. "It's o-tay, M. I'm sorry we couldn't spend much time together. Daddy told me the only way to keep you alive was to stay away from you. I didn't want my older brother to die," the ten year old replied, putting her hand on the ground and drawing away from my arms over to the paramedics. "Mommy's dead," Madison informed me, turning around to look at me with tears in her eyes. Every step was painful for her, and the kind man took her into his arms and set her on those white stretchers. "Daddy stabbed her when she tried to take us away from him." She finished, and laid her head against the stretched. That was certainly something I hadn't expected. My mom doing something nice for someone? Ha, hard to believe. "Maddy! Please, please, please, don't forget me." I told her, pressing my hand on my shoulder where it was bleeding. I was walking beside her, and ignored the shot that came from the hallway. It was kind of obvious my 'father' would take his life. I couldn't care less. "We're going to be separated and you're going to live. Just remember your older brother. Remember he'll always love you more."'' : The next day, Micah packed up everything he had in the bedroom and moved into a Foster Home. This home didn't have any children living in there. Which was odd. The couple looked happy enough, and they had a nice, large house. Once they started to call him Micah, he put a stop to that and informed the older two to call him: Tack. Personality and Powers ::: So far, Tack seems to have a twisted sense of humor. He loves to use the dirtier version of words to make things sound wrong. He tends to be sarcastic towards most people, and very full of himself all the time. Smirks and snickers are what you get out of him. If he smiles, it's because he finds something amusing. Probably something he said. The sixteen year old just finds himself very hilarious. He can be sweet, if he really wants to try. But, he isn't the one to try anything. Tack is very pushy, and likes to have things go his way. He usually gets what he wants because of his head on attitude. ::: Illusion Manipulation: User can trick people into perceiving unreal things, illusions are not tangible, but can be very realistic to subjects. There are several ways illusions can be created, for example Sense Manipulation, through Mind Control, Hypnosis or by Light Manipulation. Some users can create complex and detailed worlds, others may be able to only alter the way they or the target are perceived. ::: Extrasensory Perception: The user can instantly learn whatever they wish. This applies to any and all kinds of information, knowledge, wisdom, experience, etc. Information can be either personal (memories, thoughts, etc.) or impersonal (academic knowledge, data, etc.). This ability can be used passively (as an instinctual reaction) or actively (by wanting to know specific information). ::: Lie Detection: The user can sense the presence of lies from a person. Can’t distinguish truth as if by mind-reading, users simply are aware of truth. Idiosyncratic Manipulation: User is able to manipulate single item that has personal import to them. They can use telekinesis like effect on the object and possibly manipulate its shape/size/appearance. Some users may gain Powers Via Object. Category:Characters